We really must stop sleeping so late, part the first
The plan was to go to Hanauma Bay for snorkeling. Everything we’d read said to get there before 8, or we wouldn’t get in. Everyone we’d spoken to said to get there before 8, or we wouldn’t get in. Let’s get there before 8, I said. Let’s get there before 8, my father said. Too early, everyone else said. So we straggled out of the house well past 9.
Let’s not go today, I said, let’s wait until we can leave early.
Let’s not go today, my father said, let’s wait until we can leave early.
No, everyone else said. That will always be too early.
Of course we got there too late; of course we couldn’t get in.
I’m shocked, my mother said, I didn’t really think we needed to get there early.
I’m shocked, my grandmother said.
I’m shocked, my grandfather said.
My father and I were not shocked.
The way back was lovely, though; we drove around Koko Head, up the Halona Coast. (This is the southeastern point of Oahu.)
You could live on the bottom of a volcano.
You could look at the rocks pretending to be a whale. Silly rocks. We can see you’re not at all a whale.
You could climb around the rocks. The water is warmer than in Maine, but much more dangerous. Rogue waves could wash you off into the water. Rogue waves. I like the term. Pirate waves. Ne’er-do-well waves.
We also went to Sandy Beach, which has the highest number of lifeguard rescues and broken necks. (I hope these things don’t have the relationship that the Lonely Planet made it seem. Hanaumo Bay has the highest drowning rate; we are still going there — early, this time — on Monday.
The waves there are great. I haven’t seen many places here with real waves. I love that I can walk into the water without a shock of cold, but I miss waves. (I have been to the North Shore; surfing season there is the winter.) I’d like to go back and swim there, but my mother would prefer I not go with my sister, or alone, or at all. We’re trying a beach that is supposed to have waves tomorrow, at least. An Air Force Base, in fact.
I did get to go in that water with my sister, sort of. We waded near the shore and the waves would come and knock her over. (One splashed water and sand onto my mother’s face, after which she left the water.) You can’t jump these — you’d never catch your feet when you land. You could use a boogie board, if you’d brought some, and if your mother wasn’t irrationally scared of your brains being dashed out against the rocks. (Yes, I’m old enough that I can make my own decisions, but I’m not actually paying for this trip, so I am not making these decisions.) Actually, all the “You might die! Be careful!” signs amuse, though probably that’s why your mother is so scared.
No one was pulled into the ocean and drowned, though.